Don't bite the hand that feeds the inner you

On the edge of an abyss... A woman reads a self-help book on Hampstead Heath. Photograph: Garry Weaser

It's easy to see how self-help books got their bad reputation. Over-earnest 1970s titles such as Women Who Love Too Much are almost too easy to parody, and so many books of that era erroneously supposed that a good love life was the only key to happiness.

This trend was repeated in the self-help boom of the 1990s (so memorably lampooned in Bridget Jones's Diary), fuelled by books like The Rules, in which two women share elaborate and old-fashioned techniques for trapping a man, and Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, which told us that men and women are (shock, horror!) not the same. Readers started to suspect that self-help authors thought they were stupid. 'Self-help' became code for self-indulgence, and the British stiff upper lip had never seemed more attractive.

After a few more years of ridicule, a new type of self-help book emerged: one that recognised that there was more to life than relationships, and sought to address the thorny issue of how to be happy in a much more holistic way. It became a bit harder to dismiss the self-help genre. Occasionally, it actually helped people.

I speak from experience. Last year, I read The Journey by Brandon Bays, considered by many to be one of the most woo-woo, weirdy-beardy books around. But it resonated with me. Bays used a series of mind-body exercises to recover from a huge tumour without orthodox medical intervention, and the book shares her story and teaches the techniques. The Journey proposes that unresolved emotional issues underlie every challenge in our lives, from health problems to addictions to troubled relationships. Before long, I was seeing Journey practitioners, attending seminars and even travelling to Florida to 'manifest abundance'. I used to be a complete cynic about all of this, and I know some of my friends think I've lost it. I don't care: this book has helped my mental and physical health more than eight years of therapy and a decade of medical ineptitude.

And I'm not the only one seeking solace in self-help. Shortly after finishing Martha Beck's Finding Your Own North Star, my colleague Keris Stainton was compelled to turn her life inside out, becoming a mother, homeowner and journalist in quick succession. Says Keris: "It is impossible to read anything written by Martha Beck without feeling inspired. I first discovered her when I read an article she'd written on seizing the day in an American magazine. It's not too strong to say it changed my life."

Probably the most hyped change-your-life tome ever is that much-discussed guide to the 'law of attraction', The Secret. It's certainly had its share of detractors but my friend Helen says it had a powerful effect on her: "If you can put aside The Secret's focus on attracting material wealth and concentrate on using the law of attraction to make your life better in terms of health and happiness, it's a great message that goes well beyond positive thinking. It made me think anything was possible and that it was only my self-limiting beliefs that were holding me back."

If the new breed of self-help books can be so useful, why are people still put off? I think it might be the way the books are written: in some cases, very badly. Just last week I dumped a book for its excessive use of slang and exclamation marks. It's not enough for an author to have great insights to share; those insights must be communicated well. Thankfully writers such as Martha Beck deftly weave real-life examples with effective imagery and literary quotations to make an accessible yet intelligent package.

Lewis Wolpert's Malignant Sadness isn't a self-help book as such, rather an account of the author's depression and recovery. But it is written so well that it is both educational for those who don't understand what depression feels like, and comforting for those who know the feeling only too well.

It also illustrates the simple truth that anything we read that touches us and makes sense of our lives is not to be sneered at. Even if it's a self help book.